Two Points
by DealingDearie
Summary: Anna doesn't know what to think of her feelings for Hewlett.
Anna sat with an open book in her lap, relishing in the words of an author she knew to be Edmund's favorite-or at least, _one_ of his favorites. The man had so much fondness for far too many writers, but it was endearing to hear him gesture and stumble over his words with excitement; Anna doubted she'd ever tire of the light that overwhelmed his gaze in those moments (quite similar to the one that shined upon her when he smiled, but she hadn't meant to think of the two of them-not yet).

Her new dress had arrived yesterday, but Edmund hadn't been at Whitehall to see her receive the package; she'd grinned when she'd opened it, and had promptly decided to keep it a secret.

Apparently, he had written home, asking his warm-hearted mother for fashion advice, wondering what dress he should get for Anna herself (as a gift, a surprise-she'd learned).

And the woman had sent a dress back instead. Anna liked that; _to hell with the middle-man._

She'd also sent a rather long and well-intentioned letter to Anna, one that she knew would likely embarrass Edmund-since he hadn't known she'd directly mail to the woman in question.

The dress was blue, and definitely one of the finer things she would own, with a velvet feel to it that left her wanting to run her hand over the material every chance she got; the white frills at the sleeves brushed against her arms when she shifted in the chair, but she didn't mind. She recalled the night Edmund told her how he became a soldier, and fleetingly wondered if his mother had spent too much money-but then, the thought announced itself with a flourish of sentiment and realization: _he would have sent money home, this entire time (of course, Edmund would)._

It wasn't long before she heard the door open and close, before familiar footsteps sounded down the hall; Anna smiled to herself-an absent little gesture Abe was always telling her about. He hated her fondness for Hewlett.

"Ah, Anna, I…thought you might be out with Mary," came Edmund's surprised voice, and Anna glanced up to greet him with a warm grin, shrugging to herself before noticing how his gaze fell upon her dress with a spark of intrigue.

"I decided to stay in and read a bit, but I must admit-her offer was tempting," she replied teasingly as Edmund smirked and walked over to take a seat across from her.

"Yes, I'm certain the prospect of a sewing group isn't likely," he looked around him, always paranoid when the topic came up, "to suit your… _taste_."

Book forgotten, she pursed her lips in amusement; he'd only ever called her a spy once, and the words had never passed from his lips since. She wondered if it was too difficult for him, to truly admit that he was a traitor to the king and the cause he'd once felt so adamantly defensive of-or to confess that the law no longer meant anything to him.

He didn't avert his eyes, as he might have a year ago, when she watched him so openly; instead, he met her eyes with an equally mirthful stare.

"…Is..that a new dress?" he asked after a pregnant silence, and she ran her palms down the front of her skirt, admiring the material for the hundredth time. Edmund watched her, with her eyes cast downward, the tops of her cheeks flushed for a reason he might never be privy to, her dark hair coming unpinned from its loose bun. His heart was already racing.

Anna was delighted that Edmund had even noticed the dress (only _a bit_ delighted, she corrected herself-she couldn't let Abe be correct all the time).

"Yes, your mother sent it-actually."

She made sure to watch his cheeks brighten, his eyes widening as he looked down in an effort to conceal the way he swallowed nervously; after a moment, he laughed to himself, shaking his head.

"I'm terribly sorry, Anna. I didn't know she would send-that is, I shouldn't have been writing letters, to presume…."

He trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment as he had done during that dreadful speech about a proposal and Plato in the late hours of the night; slowly, he opened them again and offered a sheepish, small smile.

"It's alright," she began, "I think I like her, honestly-and I know I love the dress."

She closed the book and laid it down beside her, smiling as Edmund stared at her for a moment, caught in some battle with confusion, endearment, and joy; she watched the emotions dance across his face, and she was held there with him in some deep adoration she couldn't yet name. She wouldn't-not for many years.

Finally, Edmund seemed to have found his voice again, but he hesitated for a second-just long enough for Anna to notice.

"It does suit you, Anna—quite well, I must say."

Her pulse quickened.

 **Sooo, I always seem to write little short oneshots for these two precious characters because the only alternative is starting a multi-chapter that will span years and probably not be historically accurate at all since I'm bad at that and it'll just be crazy.**

 ***shrugs***

 **You know that blue dress in the promo pics was beautiful like seriously!**

 **Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.**


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